A Man watched on the monitor as a shuttle pulled into his station cluster. Another Mage. Different from the others, but still, it would appear that all the search teams could find on away missions or deals with slavers were unique by nature of a personal power that is relatively unusable by those without the gift already. The man coming in now, The Girl in the Park sector talking to herself, despite the magic suppressing choker she was wearing, the man with those baubles, “Materia” Kepler had called them, and that thing in the brig. Even that old woman with the monsters she kept in her pocket had Abilities they couldn’t copy.

He took a drag from his cigarette. None the less, they still had their uses. If they can Achieve what no-one else could, then why not set them to doing exactly that. He looked again at the monitors, scanning through them on every part of his Station.

He pressed a button on the console. “You can thaw him in processing.” He said, breathing out the smoke as he did so. “Make sure to collar him before he wakes up, I’ve got some paperwork to deal with before the next testing phase. See what he can do, and check if he can fit with the current group.”

The man then moved back to his chair, the console he had been standing next to folding up into the wall. “Well, let us see if I can get some of my own work done.”

'Yes, Tilly, Dear, you're looking very well,' Pamela said, and she was saying it to something which looked like a big, rocky Dinosaur — it was a Tyranitar, of course, and they were in some secure Part of the Ship where Tilly would be safe, and where everybody else would be safe from her; she had just finished being cleaned with a coarse Brush on a Pole and some very abrasive Powder and was looking quite comfortable and pleased with herself.

Then, as Pamela began to leave, Tilly stood up as if to follow, but was quickly told, 'now, now, Dear, you know I haven't Room where I'm staying here for you — the nice Gentlemen said this was really the only Place they had, but don't worry, Tilly, we'll be back home before you know it.' There was, however, a slight Hint of Bitterness — very, very slight, but enough for Tilly, who knew her well, and Hettie, the Murkrow perched upon her Shoulder, to pick it up; it meant they were to continue to be good, however, bothersome it was not being able to get Home.

Once she and her Escort were out of Tilly's Room, Pamela was greeted by an odd-looking Thing covered in black and white Fur — an Absol — which gave her a white Paper Bag, which contained her Lunch, and got a Petting for it; then she went to eat her Lunch, which consisted in a Chicken Salad Sandwich, some Crisps, and a nice big Cup of very black Coffee, at a Bench in the Park, which she thought was one of the nicer Places aboard the Space Station.

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James Definitely Not Jim or Jimmy Kepler was walking down a corridor. It was a pretty average corridor, in a pretty average and nondescript section of the station with rooms off of it every so far that went to wherever they went as far as Kepler was concerned. It was the sort of corridor of rooms that anywhere with a very dedicated and exclusive purpose tended to have: shrouded in mystery and deceit, where people would occasionally emerge from one of the rooms with an intensely occupied expression aimed at the floor--some would cough--and scurry to another one of the rooms. It was physically bright and clean but metaphorically dark, and indeed, Kepler deeply suspected that some of its regular inhabitants never did see the light of a real day. They were the sort of people for whom physical torture was insufficient and, honestly, disgusting, because there was no challenge or thrill of countering your opponents' moves before sticking them with an anguish in their mind and a hopeless feeling.

The controls beside the door entering this corridor identified the melancholy and brooding place as Accounting.

Not that Kepler had any reason to be in Accounting, really. But he heard tell that they had a very nice breakroom, and, given the sitcom depictions of accounting offices, he was inclined to believe it. But he had to see it. He'd made it a habit of every so often poking around to try all the various breakrooms on the station. Security had excellent, strong black coffee. Chemical Research and Development had perfect doughnuts. Bio Sciences and Engineering had watermelon grapes in the fruit bar amongst other things--you could pick them from a vine growing right in the room if you wanted. Weaponry and Advanced Computing's breakroom was able to identify, prepare and serve you exactly what you were craving just minutes after you walked in.

But Accounting. Mm, no, Accounting made those other breakrooms possible, courtesy their devious financial gymnastics and acrobatics. And they supposedly had something none of the others did. A cappuccino machine.

Kepler arrived at the end of the corridor that split like a T. The room at the crossroads of the three forks was the breakroom in question. Kepler waved his hand over the controls, the doors whooshed open, and he entered. On the other side there was a longish sort of room, where the opposite wall from the one he had entered was just one huge window to the starfield beyond. Apparently there was no water cooler present, so in the absence of a mealtime, nobody was gathered in the room. Well, except for one person.

They were brown.They had gills and funny little nubs where their ears should be.She looked kinda freaked out and confused.

Kepler waved his hand over the controls at the door again to close it, and then tapped the touchscreen once, then proceeded to his right, where the food and beverages were. He had brought his own mug, so ignored the styrofoam cups beside the...yes, yes it was a glorious copper-plated cappuccino machine. Not just a cappuccino machine though. It was a real. Espresso. Machine. The touchscreen menu had options for frappuccinos, lattes, teas, macchiatos, cortados, piccolos, galÃ£os, or straight blends and even Americanos.

He noticed the Americano menu button had noticeably lesser fingerprints on the screen over it. Not that he was surprised.

He selected a 'Cinnamon Roll Macchiato', placed his mug under the machine, received the proper amount to fill it perfectly but not so that it would spill (very nice, very important, that), and then moved down the table to a selection of pastries. He took a place from nearby and placed on it a large crueller, an apple fritter, and a custard filled Long John. Well, he suspected it was custard filled anyway. It was a little hard to tell, since it was, uh, filled and stuff. He took the plate and his mug over to a table beside the window wall and not very far from the panicky looking gila-monster girl.

He looked at her briefly, then stiffly pulled a chair out, sat, looked at the pastries, then selected the crueller and took a large bite, going back to watching the gila girl while he chewed.

'Hi.' He said. He didn't speak very loudly, but the room had been rather quiet until just then, so in contrast his voice rang out like a blast horn. 'Do you want a doughnut?' He motioned awkwardly at the Long John. 'I think that one has custard.' He took another bite and chewed again. 'It might not though. It might just have cream. It's really disappointing when they put cheap cream inside but you're expecting custard.' He stopped,then took another, much larger bite of crueller and sat contentedly, chewing.

Alyssa froze. What should she do? She knew she shouldn't be in the room. The person entering would know she shouldn't be in the room. But she couldn't make a dive for the portal - she couldn't see it; she only knew approximately what part of the wall she had entered through. So she just stood there, waiting for the bellow of rage at the sight of an unauthorised mutant on board their space station.

It didn't come.

Gingerly, she turned a little to get a better look at the newcomer. He was a young man, probably a few years older than she was, wearing a white lab coat. Strangely, he seemed to be totally unfazed by her presence; he simply looked at her for a moment before getting himself some coffee and food. And then he offered her a doughnut.

If anything, that freaked her out even more than his arrival. Why was he being friendly? Why was he inviting someone who must look like a spy or a thief - a mutant spy or thief at that - to join him for a snack? Had she been spotted on a monitor, and he was really one of those interrogators who put on a friendly façade to get their victims to lower their guard, and then turn nasty when they don't get the answers they're seeking? One half of her - the hungry half - wanted to accept the doughnut and deal with whatever came next as it occurred, but the other half - the fugitive half - was telling her to keep as much distance between herself and this man as possible.

"I'm shorry," was all she could initially think to say in response. But then she added, "I dʲidʲn' mean tʲo tʲreshpash... honeshly... Zhere wazh a portʲal zha' I came shrough. I' brough' me here. I'll leave - jushtʲ azh shoon azh I can findʲ itʲ again."

She turned back to the wall and frantically began feeling along it with her hands.

'Mm,' Kepler took a drink of the macchiato from his Aperture Science Innovators mug to wash down his last bite. 'I notified security when I came in. They should be here already. Guess they're getting slow. But I doubt they come to Accounting much. And I don't think Accounting has any portals laying around. I would know.' His finger tapped his Aperture mug again at the word 'portals'. 'You don't look like an overpowered alien. I can account for pretty much all of the Federation of Planets' species and you aren't one of those. Could be from the Delta Quadrant, I guess. You don't seem streamlined or monsterised enough to be from a Star Wars universe. Hey, have you ever heard of the Borg?'

'Oh, hello, Aran, I do hope you're doing well, Dear,' Pamela said. 'I was just eating Lunch; I've just been to visit Tilly — I ought to introduce you to her someday soon: I think you two would get on swimmingly — and, yes, it's about Time for our daily Walk.'

Mirasa looked up at the sky from the sky from the tree she was leaning against. Well, Some people would call it a sky, at any rate, artificial as it was. It had been designed to look like one, she understood, but the sentiment rang a little hollow. It appeared blue, with the odd white cloud drifting across, rather than a pale green with Clouds that looked so much like burn marks in the air. Also the night and day cycled much too quickly. She supposed that this was simply so that short visiting person's could see the effect, but someone had then told her that twenty four Hours was in fact a standard day cycle on the planet the group originated on.

"Go figure." She said to no one in particular. "I guess that they also had these huge plants there as well, lucky bastards." She took a drink from the cup of soup she had brought with her. "Ugg. still too strong..." She then turned to her left. "I don't suppose any of you want any."

"No ma'am, my shift is almost over anyways." Said the man the organization had following her around.

"Wasn't asking you. Why are you following me around anyways. I promised not to cause any trouble, You have my equipment, and this stupid necklace you have me wearing stops me from even trying to do anything even if I did have one."

"Company policy Ma'am."

"Fine fine. You could at least let me dress you up. That suit they make you wear is so boring." She then turned back the way she had earlier before he could reply. "Yeah, I know you can't eat any right now. But I can certainly save some for you till later... What, You like spicy things, don't you?"

Alyssa's state of confusion rose every time the man opened his mouth, it seemed. Now it reached a level that even countered her fear and alarm to a certain extent in that her need to question his statements suddenly overrode her need to get as far away from him as possible.

Then Pamela looked rather thoughtful for a Moment, and asked 'I don't suppose you would like to come with us? You seem to have been out for a bit of Exercise yourself, though I fancy you're a strong enough Lad for a bit more Walking not to trouble you much: if you're not too busy, we might even go and introduce you to Tilly — I'm quite certain you'll like her, Dear.'

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'Oh, certainly, Dear, I suppose you must want washing — I really ought to have been paying more Attention,' Pamela answered. 'And a Date for Tilly and Tea does sound lovely; send a Note with Hettie when you're ready and I'll meet you then.'

Then the large, black Bird perched itself upon Aran's Head; she was, of course, not having serious romantical Thoughts about him, pretty Man though he was: one must not fall that far in Love with one's Grandchildren, adopted or otherwise, after all.

'I haven't one of those odd Telephones one carries about yet, Dear,' Pamela told him, and then she gave the Murkrow a Cracker. 'But Hettie will wait very patiently for you while you get ready, and she can find me most anywhere. I hope you have a nice Shower now, but don't keep me waiting too long.'

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'Oh, mutant. Homo superior.' James made a clicking sound in his cheek and pointed both index fingers at he girl. 'Marvelverse. Got it. I don't think you need to worry about anti-mutant sentiment around here. The people around here basically live for mutant rights.' It was true. If they didn't, they wouldn't have the rights to test mutants, and then what good would they be? 'As for how you got in...well, actually, you'd be surprised how many people just fly in, though they're never undetected. You aren't either, though. I mean, I found you. That counts as detected.'

Alyssa narrowed her eyes. She had no idea what the guy meant by ‘Marvelverse’, but his mention of ‘homo superior’ was interesting; mutant-haters didn’t normally use the term – after all, it implied that mutants were, well, superior – something that anyone prejudiced against them would be very unwilling to accept. So had his implication that she was an alien really been a mistake on his part? It seemed odd if that actually was the case – mutants were commonplace; aliens were rare. Very rare. And living for mutant rights? That certainly sounded too good to be true. Enticing, but hard to believe. Actively pro-mutant organisations, other than those run by mutants themselves, were few and far between, and quickly became well-known within the mutant community. She hadn’t heard of any pro-mutant group based in orbit.

She was still keeping her distance , and watching, tensed, for the arrival of the promised security team, but she had to find out more.

“Wha’ dʲo you mean by ‘Zhe people aroundʲ here baishically live for mutʲan’ rightsh’? Who are you? Whatʲ izh zhish plaish?”

--------

Aran didn't feel very comfortable about being joined by Hettie. He was going to feel quite a fool walking home with a bird on his head. He wondered if it would understand if he proffered a wrist for it to perch on, like a hawker did with a hawk. But he didn't say anything. He'd try that as he walked.

"I don't have a cellphone either," he replied. "I left mine behind in the house in the confusion when we were evacuated. But it wouldn't have worked here of course, unless I could get the SIM card changed. I wonder if the organisation provides phones? I'll have to enquire. Anyway, cya later sweetheart," he quipped, and with a wave he set off towards the park's exit.

Kepler shrugged. He had to be selective about what information he immediately divulged. 'I'm James Kepler. My character isn't as different from yours as it looks. I can't really say much more than that right now. It would ruin the surprise.'

The Door opened to the Break room. "I can handle it from here Kepler." A large man in what appeared to be a slightly armoured uniform walked into the room. "You are on the Station cluster Pequod, a testing and development platform. More precisely, you are in the accounting Station, in the break room. My name is Joseph Masters and I am chief of security. We can likely give you more relevant information if we were given a less tense situation than what we have at present." The man hadn't moved past the door. "As for handing over to the police, as you can see, we are floating in space, there is no Police. If you can find your portal against the wall, please do so, we have no intention of forcing you to stay at this time."

On her Walk through the Park, Pamela spotted one of her new Acquaintances — Mirasa, if she recalled correctly — and so walked over to her for a Chat.

'Hello, Dear,' Pamela began, and Jeanne, the Houndoom, began sniffing about because she smelled whatever the Girl had just been eating. 'Don't mind Jeanne, now — she won't bother anything — I hope you've been keeping well?'

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"Well, it's a little difficult to keep unwell here, I mean, I just walk into one of the food places and pick up a this soup." She took another drink from her Soup. "I mean, maybe a half hours walk, and I can get something with substance. I see you've still got your watcher stalking you about too. You didn't Bit anyone cause they tried to take your food did you?" Mirasa gave her own Handler a glare, then turned back to Pamela, "They don't like it when you bite them, throw you into that small room with the bed."

"Well of course it's good here. I just don't get some things. Someone tries to take something from you, you stop them, or they're going to keep taking things, it only makes sense. I can proudly say that no one has since tried to take my food." She gave her Handler another glare, as if in warning. "But I usually gather food. I think I have enough to last me a few month when that food place runs out."

"We've told you, the store isn't going to run out of food. they keep getting more."

"Pfft, everywhere runs out of food. But anyways. Apparently the warm food is too dry to eat right away when you open it. Most of it anyways. So I have Undine checking that water hole over there to see if would help the food any, in case that tap thing runs out. She says it should be fine, so long as nothing dies in it. So I'm sitting here to make sure nothing dies in it."

'You must not understand something, Dear — I bet your World is very different from mine,' Pamela told her, and she was trying very hard not to scold. 'You see, when you have Taps, they don't run out unless some Calamity strikes, and, because we are in the Middle of Space, which is really quite empty, the Chances of something like that happening are marvellously small, and even if it were to happen, they have Ways of fixing them very, very quickly. Shops of the Kind here really aren't going to run out, and, though I've not the slightest Idea of what an Undine is, I'm certain you won't be needing anything other than your Tap for water, and that you don't need to be certain nothing is going to die in that Water over there. Please, do believe me — I've lived with Taps and Foodshops all my Life, and I've never, less some Problems with Plumbing once, seen them go dry or untended except on Holidays.'

She hoped that did not sound too patronising, but it was really quite necessary, she thought, that, regardless of whence she came, this Girl come to understand that the Food and Water were not going to run out.

'Now why don't you join us on our Walk and take your Mind off Wendines and Water-Sources and whatnot?' Pamela said. 'If you pay very close Attention, you will see that nobody else is making such Preparations, and that when you take more than you really need from the Shop, that People are looking baffledly at you and wondering why you are doing it.'

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Masters’ assertion that they weren’t going to try to detain her, while what she had desired, certainly wasn’t what Alyssa had been expecting. Unfortunately, she also knew that she’d already felt along almost the entire length of the wall, and she knew the portal had been somewhere in the quarter nearest the window, so she had little hope that it was still accessible. She cursed herself inwardly for being tempted to climb through it in the first place. Nevertheless, she retraced her steps, under the watchful eyes of both Masters and Kepler, and then, just in case the portal had shrunk in size, she felt around along the lower edge of the wall. Still nothing.

“It’sh gone,” she announced, finally. “Wha' happenzh now? I don’ shuppozhe anyone’zh chravelling back dʲown tʲo Earsh any tʲime shoon, who migh’ be able tʲo give me a ridʲe tʲo New York? I know I dʲon’ have any righ’ tʲo ask, butʲ...”

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